Frenzied by Claire Chilton

S he jerked awake and cringed, fighting the urge to gag as a rotting, metallic stench invaded her nostrils.
    What the hell is that smell?
    She forced one eye open and gasped at the sharp pain that spiked through her skull.
    Shit, how much did I drink last night?
    As she cradled her head, she tried to recall the night before. She frowned. Her mind was blank—There were no memories at all.
    Her neck ached, so she rubbed the back of it while trying to concentrate on what she could remember. She knew how to make blueberry muffins. She knew the calculation for pi and how to screw in a light bulb, but she had no memory of how she knew that or who she was.
    What the hell happened to me?
    She shifted uncomfortably and arched her back. Her eyes snapped open when she felt velvet under her fingertips. She glanced down at the ageing cinema seat in disbelief.
    Did I fall asleep during a movie?
    She stared ahead at the cinema screen, wondering if that was what her mind looked like right now; a blank white screen with a dull light glowing behind it.
    She frowned, looking around and examining her surroundings. The cinema appeared to be a theatre that still had the gods above her and gilded box seats on balconies at each side of the room.
    She scanned the room for other people, but there was no one else in the large theatre.
    “Hello?” She didn’t expect an answer, but the echo of her voice in the silent room made her shiver.
    This is beyond creepy.
She shrank into her chair.
    Okay, get up and go home, wherever the hell that is.
    She tried to shake off the irrational fear, but the air was heavy with doom. Something wasn’t right.
    Yeah, you woke up with amnesia in a bloody cinema!
    She shook her head at the insanity of her situation, wincing when an ache throbbed through her skull. She touched her forehead to rub it away, but yelped when fiery pain burned through her skin as her fingers touched her head.
What the hell?
    There was a sticky wet substance on her fingers. Her eyes widened when she saw blood on them.
    Did I get knocked out during the movie?
    She searched the pockets of her denim skirt, looking for clues. After some routing around, she found a credit-card sized wallet in her left pocket. She flipped it open and stared at the driver’s license inside. Under a small photograph of a scowling, blonde teenage girl was the name Lucy Carlton. She read her date of birth before glancing at the date on her cinema ticket.
    I’m eighteen. Well, assuming this is my purse, and I’m not some kind of pick pocket.
    She glanced back at the photograph, hoping it was a bad photo because the girl in the picture looked like a miserable cow.
    With no idea of where she was or who she was, everything seemed horrifying. The silence was cloying.
    I need to get out of here.
    Lucy shoved the small purse back into her pocket and jumped up out of her seat, pausing when a wave of dizziness hit her. She gripped the arm of the uncomfortable cinema seat and groaned as pins and needles shot down her back and legs.
    How long have I been in that seat for?
    She clenched her hands into fists as an irrational wave of anger filled her, and she saw red. She inhaled slowly with her eyes closed while clenching her toes inside her boots to try to get some feeling back into them.
    It’s okay. I just need to get to the bathroom and see what state I’m in.
    The rage faded away, but it was rapidly replaced by fear, so she blocked out as many thoughts as she could about what had happened to her. Something bad had happened, but worrying over what it was would only make it worse. Holding onto the back of the seats, she made her way down the aisle towards the exit. Her steps were silent on the thick red carpet as she approached the sunken staircase that led out of the theatre.
    The echo of her boots clipping on the hard tiles of the staircase made her wince, setting off the spikes of pain again. She glanced down at the grey tiled floor and froze.
    Red splatters of blood